


sudoku and sugar packets

by redvineshark



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, but at least hes not bad to look at, more specifically - hermann inherited a coffee shop that newt frequents, seemingly just to annoy him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redvineshark/pseuds/redvineshark
Summary: Hermann Gottlieb is content to stay burrowed in his quaint little cafe, not doing much else but flick through sudoku puzzles, browse what little news there is to be found in the local newspaper, and tend to the occasional customer. For the most part, he is left to his own devices. Except, that is, when he is unfortunate enough to be so generously graced with the presence of one quick mouthed professor.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	sudoku and sugar packets

**Author's Note:**

> may or may not become a series,.,.dont hold me to that-

There is a shop nestled between two like shops on a street corner, in faded earthy colors that were meant to make it stand out, but did the opposite when the “rustic throwback” look became quite the trend. In fact, it is so firmly nestled, and so firmly plain, that one would hardly notice it at all if they were to walk past it on any given day. The owner is rather like it in that way. Maybe this is why he had formed an attachment to the shop he hadn’t wanted to inherit in the first place, or maybe that is because of the fact that the ownership of said shop made him feel like he was doing something important with his life. He gracefully tiptoes (as well as he can do such things with that leg of his) around the idea that brewing decent coffee and baking mediocre pastries isn’t exactly “important,” but more so what one would call a “rip off.” (Or, if you were feeling generous, “a waste of time.”)

Hermann Gottlieb is content to stay burrowed in his quaint little cafe, not doing much else but flick through sudoku puzzles, browse what little news there is to be found in the local newspaper, and tend to the occasional customer. For the most part, he is left to his own devices. Except, that is, when he is unfortunate enough to be so generously graced with the presence of one quick mouthed professor. Hermann knows this because he grades papers at a small table in the corner, and is very vocal about his annoyances. He has made something of a habit of visiting the cafe each morning (seven o’clock precisely) and, every once in a while, will rush through the doors just before day’s end as if Hermann isn’t flipping the closed sign toward the window before his very eyes. If he were to think about it, Hermann would realize that he could simply lock the door in his face, refuse to let him in, or close minutes ahead of the professor’s usual arrival. However, he does not think about it. Or, at least, chooses not to. Rather, he simply scowls and steps aside so that the man might pull the door open and stumble inside with a grateful smile. (He does, on multiple occasions, consider shifting his cane for the man to trip over, but decides against it at the last moment.) And, if Hermann were to ask, he would learn that the professor’s name is Newton Geiszler. However, as Newton is more often than not the only customer in attendance, meaning there is no need for a name scrawled onto the cup, he does not ask.

_ Speak of the devil, and he doth appear.  _ Hermann stifles a groan. The mere thought of the annoyance the professor brings him seems to have summoned him. Hermann could’ve been better prepared had he glanced at the clock and noticed that seven o’clock was swiftly approaching, but preparation is not something that Hermann had ever managed to do very well without worrying himself sick to the point of losing all functionality to prepare with. The Professor runs a hand through his hair as he makes his way into the cafe, and Hermann focuses on his sudoku as if he hadn’t heard the bell chime at the door’s opening. Rather, he allows The Professor to drum his fingers on the counter and wait for Hermann’s attention. (This was another way Hermann had found to make himself feel important.) He was given just that a few moments later, when Hermann filled the last two squares and lowered his glasses to hang around his neck by their chain. He is not aware that this made him look like a stern librarian. Newton is very aware, and barks out a laugh. Hermann furrows his brows.

“What?” He can’t decide whether to feel frustrated or self conscious, and what comes out is a voice much more squeaky and defensive than he had intended. Inwardly, he is slamming his head into the countertop. Repeatedly. Outwardly, he winces. 

“Nothing! Nothing.” The Professor holds his hands to his chest palms out in surrender.

Hermann coughs in a desperate attempt to clear the air. "The usual, then?"

"Please." A polite smile. Or, at least, polite by The Professor's standards.

Hermann has derived that The Professor is as habitual as Hermann himself. Seven o'clock each week day, always the same order, always the same haphazardly tied tie, and always the same infuriatingly endearing smile. Hermann supposes he should encourage a change of pace, more for his own sake than The Professor's, and-

"Newt."

Hermann glances up, train of thought effectively derailed. The Professor is looking at him oddly, almost with determination, papers gripped tight. "Hm?"

"Newt. It's- That's, uh. My name. Well- Newton, but that’s what my friends call me. Newt, I mean." The Professor- er, Newt- looks like he is about to explode all over Hermann's register. The thought is unfavorable. Then, quieter: "...For the cup."

There had never been a need for a name before, and Hermann is not sure why Newt has decided there is one now, but merely squints his eyes and nods. "Right."

"Just- your name tag. Hermann, right? Thought I'd, y'know, even the playing field." Newt flashes another smile and Hermann can do nothing else but look back at him and nod again. Newt’s smile falters. He coughs, and Hermann can hear the shuffle of feet as Newt shifts from one to the other, no longer looking at Hermann, but anywhere  _ other  _ than Hermann.

He hastily pours Newt his coffee. (Grande, black coffee, he watches Newt raid the sugar packets. He could’ve poured sugar in himself, but he gets the sense Newt enjoys tearing the packets open.) He slips the sleeve onto the hot cup and, just above it, scrawls  _ Newton _ with the pen tucked into his breast pocket.

The Professor- Newt- Newton (he many need to get accustomed) accepts it with a grateful grin, which broadens when he eyes the etched ink. “Formal. You know you can call me Newt, right?”

“Isn’t that reserved for your friends?” He raises a brow and shifts his sudoku book to sit in front of him again, pen once again in hand.

“...I’m in here like..all the time, dude. And we talk, so.” 

“And that makes us friends?” He pretends to be writing something down, but ends up scribbling at the bottom of the page, which bothers him to no end. “I’ve just learned your name.”

“I guess? I dunno, man. Just tryin’ to be nice.” Hermann glances up, then, and Newton is visibly miffed. He sighs and sets his pen down.

“How about we start as acquaintances and work our way from there, hm?” He holds out a hand for Newton to shake it. He stares at it, then awkwardly leans forward and high fives him. Hermann blinks, then lets his hand fall back to the counter.

“Deal.” Its quiet, but Newton is smiling, and sips his coffee. Grimaces. Hermann smiles to himself as he reaches to the small bin beside him and hands the professor a handful of sugar packets. “Sweet. Thanks.”

  
And, with that, he waves and faces Hermann as he pushes the door open with his back and walks away. It is not until five minutes later that the encounter fully sinks in and Hermann resists the urge to pull his hair out. Friends. With  _ him. _ As if he couldn’t make things any worse.


End file.
